Questionable Methods
by Dendraica
Summary: This has absolutely nothing to do with my series. Fudge thinks he's found a way to put Death Eaters behind bars, and he'll follow through with it too, Dumbledore or no Dumbledore. But does the end truly justify the means?


## Questionable Methods

  
  
_A/N: I don't know where this idea came from, but it just stuck in my brain and refused to leave me until I wrote it out. :P Everyone is in character (except perhaps Fudge) and this has nothing to do with my series. All characters mentioned belont to J.K. Rowling._   
  


* * *

  
The Dark Lord had risen again. Fudge could no longer deny it. Dumbledore had been right about everything . . . and Fudge was labeled as fool in just about every article published about him in the Daily Prophet.  
  
Fudge cursed bitterly. Even if the Dark Lord _hadn't_ risen, he still could have done more to prevent the numerous Death Eater attacks on Muggles and Muggle-born wizards.Cornelius's eyes fell upon his wand which lay across a clipping from the Daily Prophet depicting yet another sighting of the Dark Mark and of the horror found within the house it floated above.  
  
Fudge sighed. It was time to take action. If Voldemort wanted to play hard-ball, Fudge was up for the game. He rose from his chair, took up his wand and something else, and walked away from his office, his mind set on one place; Hogwarts.  
  


* * *

  
"I have a few questions to ask some students, Dumbledore," Fudge told the old man.  
  
"What nature of questions?"  
  
"A few students here, particularily those in Slytherin, have parents that are rumoured to be working for Voldemort. I intend to find out if those rumors are true."  
  
Dumbledore raised from his seat, brow knitting fiercely. "No. No, Cornelius. The students come to Hogwarts to learn. Not to worry about what their parents are doing."  
  
Fudge opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. "Very well, Dumbledore. You have a point. I shall not press the matter further."  
  
Bowing graciously, Fudge saw himself out the door. Dumbledore sighed softly and sat down again. "At least he's beginning to see that _something_ must be done about Voldemort's rising. It's only his methods I question."  
  


* * *

  
"Draco Malfoy?" Fudge asked the silver-blond boy who was walking towards the Dining Hall for supper. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle stopped when Draco stopped to look in Fudge's direction.   
  
"You know who I am, boy?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Draco said carefully. Although he disliked Fudge as much as his father did, he was educated to be polite to Ministry Officials almost to the point of brown-nosing. "Anything I do for you?" he asked coolly.  
  
"Yes, come with me." Fudge said, softly walking down a corridor.  
  
Draco swallowed uneasily, but nodded to Crabbe and Goyle that he'd see them later. They nodded back and continued to the Dining Hall while Draco followed Fudge.  
  
"Mr. Fudge, where are we going?"  
  
"Nowhere boy. _Stupify_"  
  
Draco jerked back in shock when he saw Fudge's wand pointed over his heart, but he didn't get far before the spell caused him to crumple in Fudge's arms. Fudge smiled down at the unconscious boy. "Let's begin our little interrogation, shall we?"  
  
He picked the boy up, and slung an invisibility cloak around them both. Dumbledore will see, he thought as he walked out of Hogwarts, undetected to his waiting broomstick. _Dumbledore will realize these students have information that could end up allowing even more killings if it's kept secret any longer. Maybe Draco knows where Voldemort's hide-out is! But Dumbledore isn't even going to question the boy on the grounds that 'he's only a child'. Pah. If Voldemort plays dirty, so will I. The little brat has it coming anyway if his father's truly what I think he is._

* * *

  
"Are we awake, young man?"  
  
Draco groaned and opened his eyes blearily. He tried to get up, but realized to his horror that he was bound by his wrists to a chair.  
  
"What are you doing?!" Draco yelped. "Let me go this instant! My father will get you for this!"  
  
"Oh yes, your father. Let's start with him, shall we? Is he a Death-Eater?"  
  
"Th . . . That's what I'm here for?" Draco's voice was shaking and his silver eyes were wide with fright. "An interrogation?"  
  
Fudge nodded grimly and reached into his robes, pulling out a small vial. "You won't be hurt. And you won't remember what happened to you. But your voice will be recorded onto an unerasable tape and sent in anonymously to the Ministry of Magic office. As will the confessions of many other students. And as for your father . . . he'll be in Azkaban before the night is over."  
  
"Dumbledore would never approve of this!" Draco hissed.  
  
"Oh, but he _hasn't_ approved."  
  
Draco smirked. "You're going to be in so much trouble for this. He'll find out I'm missing and Hell will freeze over before I tell you anything!"  
  
"Do you know what this is?" Fudge asked, holding the vial up to the dim light. Draco swallowed. He was afraid he _did_ know what it was.  
  
"This is a very powerful truth potion. Just a few drops and you will tell me _everything_ about your father. I daresay, enough to convict him for a very very long time. And it will only take a matter of minutes for you to condemn him. That's how powerful this potion is."  
  
"What makes you think I'm going to drink any of it?" Draco sneered.  
  
"I should think your mouth will be open wide enough to pour some in while you're screaming in pain," Fudge smirked. He raised his wand and Draco tensed in fear, slowly shaking his silver-blond head in denial. "_Crucio._"  
  


* * *

  
Draco sobbed brokenly, rocking back and forth in the chair as far as his bonds would allow. "I hate you," he said raggedly. "I hate you . . ."  
  
"I'm well aware of it. I don't think the Dementors will hesitate to kiss your father as soon as he enters Azkaban. As soon as they hear this tape, your father among the others you named will be locked away forever."  
  
Fudge held up the tape, looking for fingerprints, then thoroughly wiped off the surface with his robes before slipping the tape into a pocket.  
  
"You'll never get away with this . . . you used an Unforgivable Curse . . . you . . . YOU MADE ME BETRAY MY FATHER, YOU BASTARD!!!" Draco screamed in anguish. He slumped forward, weeping bitterly. "They'll f-find you out . . . th-they will! Y-you won't do this to a-anyone e-else!" he croaked, his frail chest heaving with his sobs.  
  
Fudge let Draco cry his pain out before approaching the boy and lifting his face up with one hand beneath his chin.  
  
"Your father killed so many people, and yet you weep for him? He is in league with Voldemort, and yet you weep? Be glad he's found justice. At least now some people can sleep at night!"  
  
"He w-was my father and I l-loved him . . . y-you had no right t-to take him away from m-me . . ."  
  
"I had every right, and be thankful your mother's not joining him in Azkaban. She, as I learned from your confession, is almost as guilty as Lucius for keeping information from the Ministry about her husband's crimes!"  
  
Draco gave a soft whimper. "God, my m-mother . . . sh-she'll hate me . . . I betrayed father, she'll hate m-me . . ." Draco was trembling all over now and Fudge worried that he may be going into some sort of fit. "Th-the other D-Death Eaters . . . th-they'll kill me . . . I betrayed my father . . . I-I betrayed almost all of them . . . others I named . . . V-Voldemort's going to come for me himself . . ."  
  
Alarmed, Fudge searched his mind for a solution. He hadn't thought of what would befall Draco when his 'confession' was made public. He'd put the boy in danger of his life. He didn't doubt the boy would be harmed by vengeance-seeking Death-Eaters, if not Voldemort himself. After all, nobody would know the true nature of Draco's confession except Fudge himself, and he certainly couldn't admit to what he'd done. _He'd_ be the one rotting in Azkaban then!  
  
There was only one thing left to do now. Another disservice to the boy. He had to make Draco forget everything that had happened to cover up his traces. But by making him forget he had confessed, Draco would not know he was in danger at all and he would most likely die protesting his innocence. But it was necessary if Fudge wanted this Death-Eaters put away.  
  
Lucius Malfoy . . . Arthur MacNair . . . Crabbe . . . Goyle . . . and so many others. He had them all right where he wanted them now. They would name other Death-Eaters and so many deaths would be prevented! Why should he care about what befell Draco Malfoy?  
  
"I loved him . . ." Draco was weeping openly. "I loved him and you took him away . . . It's my fault," he said, looking at Fudge with wild desperation in his eyes. "Send me to Azkaban! It's my fault he joined with Voldemort at all! I swear it's true! He did it to protect me and my mother . . . Voldemort threatened us all! It's my fault for being born when I did! Send me instead! I'd rather go there and go insane then live the rest of my life like a traitor! Please don't make me go . . . don't let me get away with it. . ." Draco cried out, beseechingly. "Please, you can't ---"  
  
"_Oblivate,_" Fudge murmured and Draco's face went blank. "_Stupify_" Draco's eyes rolled up and he relaxed into a dead faint.  
  
Fudge took out the tape again and looked at it long and hard. In his hand, he held evidence that could mean safety in the wizarding world. Evidence to show that the Ministry was not obsolete and neither was he a fool. Evidence that would make him famous.  
  
He looked at Draco Malfoy. He had done the Crucatius Curse on the boy for this evidence. This boy had suffered, screamed aloud in anguish and agony alike, lost his father, and in the end had begged Cornelius to let him take the fall instead of Lucius.   
  
Fudge had always thought of young Malfoy as a shallow materialistic brat, and perhaps he was, but now he knew Draco had a devotion to his father beyond depending on Lucius for his lavish style of life. Draco loved Lucius Malfoy enough to go to Azkaban. Enough to bite his lip till it bled when the truth potion began to take hold of his body.  
  
Draco would be hunted by Death-Eaters, scorned by anyone close to him for betraying his father, and surrounded on all sides by reporters, students, gossip, rumors, thoughts of suicide maybe . . . and the possibility that his father's last coherent thoughts before the Dementors performed the Kiss on him was that he hated Draco. And worse yet, Draco wouldn't even remember that he had _tried_ to stop himself from pouring forth the secrets and the names that had damned Lucius and countless others. He would hear his own voice played for everyone, showing how he had answered every question with the same casual tone one would answer arithmancy problems with.  
  
"_Is it really worth it?_" he could imagine Dumbledore saying. "_Do the scales balance? One life, for the chance to save hundreds more. One small sacrifice, seemingly meanless. Just one. But a life nonetheless . . . and you will ruin any potential it ever held. All because your methods were questionable and you were too cowardly to reveal them._"  
  
"Stop it," Fudge hissed to the empty room. They were far from the Ministry and he knew they were alone . . . no-one for miles to hear Draco screaming. No-one but him.  
  
Fudge looked at Draco and then back at the tape in his hands.   
  
The decision was his. He held a number of lives in his hands, and he wasn't sure which ones to save.  
  
Finally, with a heavy and bitter curse, he slammed the tape down on the table and pointed his wand at it. "_Deteriatis_" he muttered, and the tape's plastic covering blistered and bubbled away, twisting and shriveling the evidence it held. When the thing on the table no longer resembled anything remotely like a cassette, Fudge threw it into a wastebasket and walked to the unconscious Draco, undoing his bonds. Once again, he wrapped the invisibility cloak around them both and reached for his broomstick.  
  


* * *

  
Draco groaned softly and opened his eyes. What a weird dream, he thought. And a horrible one. He sat up, cold, and reached for his bed-covers. His hand grazed the floor of the corridor. "What? Where am I?"  
  
"Draco?"  
  
"Crabbe? Goyle?"  
  
"What happened?" Goyle asked, sprawled beside Draco. Draco kicked at the lump lying down by his feet and he heart Crabbe grunt and stir.  
  
"Don't ask me what happened. I don't remember," Draco said crossly. "Crabbe, what happened?"  
  
"I dunno. What happened, Goyle?"  
  
"He doesn't know either!" yelled Draco, in exasperation. "Crabbe, _what_ is your wand doing out?"  
  
"Don't remember."  
  
"Oh no . . . were you practicing a hex again?"  
  
"Maybe . . ."  
  
"Well, that explains _everything_, you idiot. Come on. Dinner's probably over by now, and I'm _starving._ Good thing mother sent me those cookies. I suppose the two of you want some as well?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"That'd be cool."  
  
"Allright, then come on. Just promise not to do any practicing around me from now on. Whatever you did, Crabbe, it worked like an Oblivating spell. I'll be lucky if I remember what our homework assignments were tonight."  
  
Fudge listened as Draco's voice continued to complain down the hall. He'd been standing with his wand at the ready, still covered by his invisibility cloak, in case either three should remember anything about what had happened. He'd lured Crabbe and Goyle into the corridor, saying that Draco needed to tell them something important. They had seen him take Draco off alone, and that could spell trouble if anyone found out. All he wanted right now was to make sure nobody would ever find out what he did . . . or what he _almost_ did.  
  
Fudge still lamented over the loss of his evidence. But he knew now that the ruination of one life was not worth any of it. Even if it was Draco Malfoy's life. "I'll will put them away," Fudge promised himself, as he walked undetected out of Hogwarts. "I'll see them in Azkaban yet. I just have to find less questionable methods . . ."  
  


**To Be Continued . . .**


End file.
